“Listen, I don’t like giving information out without getting something in return, but maybe, just maybe doing this will help you understand why I am no one’s friend but my own. I was born into this shit hole excuse for an existence without a choice—wish I would’ve clawed my way back into that bitch’s piss hole, at least I would’ve been warm. Name’s Mercury. That’s on account of me having more of that heavy metal in my blood stream than humanly possible, at least that’s what Doc’ Targett told me. A lot of people wonder if my eyes are silver because of it, hell if I know, but what I can tell them is this; mine are open. Are yours?” Born of uncaring parents and neglected, Matthew Steele was thrust into hardship from the beginning. He endured the physical and emotional trauma he was subjected to by his drug-addicted parents, Rex and Care. When he was eight he witnessed his first rape. At ten he saw his father kill his mother with a machete over a couple of Rundown pills. That night he waited until Rex was passed out in his lean-to and stole his Mosin Nagant. It was a near ancient rifle from some great war long ago. He could barely hold it up with his scrawny arms, but his fingers, strong from the years of labor and hardship, met the trigger with no resistance. Young Matthew stalked off into the wasteland that night, following the path that fate laid before him. When Matthew was 14 he nearly lost his life to a small gang of vagrants. The sun had set and he was looking for a place to hunker down for the evening. There was a barrel with some wood burning in it near what was left of a school’s playground. He surveyed the area and, against his better judgment, approached the fire. It’s licking flames leapt up into the air, challenging the dark ceiling of the starless sky. He lay down next to the fire and was asleep within a few moments. Shortly after he had dozed off several hoods appeared from behind the school and surrounded him, the dancing shadows cast by the fire skewed their faces, revealing deep, carnal grins. They beat him into unconsciousness and left him bleeding and broken in the street. The gang took the few supplies he’d had. He would have died that night if Dr. Targett hadn’t happened upon him while out scavenging for medical supplies. He brought him back to his abandoned hospital and, through a little trial and error and a lot of luck, helped him into a near full recovery. While all of his wounds had healed and his broken bones were mended there remained a problem. Dr. Targett accidentally injected him with a very high amount of Mercury (mistaking it for anesthetic). Though he immediately fell ill and remained that way for some time, Matthew’s body, accustomed to torture, had somehow built up an immunity to it within weeks. His eyes glazed over to a steely sheen and he began to grow comfortable in his perpetual chill. After weeks of rehabilitation he vowed to Dr. Targett, the only person who had showed compassion for him, that he would find something to pay him back with. After weeks of reconnaissance on the gang’s hideout he was going to exact revenge. Matthew snuck into the compound without anybody making so much as a peep. He found the items they had stolen off him and he found his Mosin Nagant. He slowly loaded the five round magazine. Then he proceeded to shoot the closest hood in the head at point blank range. After the first shot rang out the others woke and scrambled, but Matthew’s body was healed and his mind clear. Each member of the gang was gunned down immediately. Soon there was only the leader left, trembling and hunched in a small puddle of piss. “I-I-I don’t wanna die man. D-Don’t shoot me. I have some information man. Please, don’t shoot!” “What is it? Speak up now you filthy fuck,” spat Matthew. “That doc that was healin’ you up. He’s worse than us man, we’re just tryin’ to survive out here man. That guy, he’s a fucking monster! H-he paid us to ambush you that night. Said he needed a new practice dummy, said he’d give us all the Rundown we could take. A-an-and that’s all we had to do, beat you and leave,” stuttered the leader feebly. Shuffling across the floor to a chest he opened it and proclaimed, “Here man, it’s all here. This whole fuckin’ chest man, said he makes it in the basement of his hospital. This is it all man, just take it, b-but please, man, don’t ki—” The crack of Matthew’s rifle pierced the night air and brought a pleasant ringing to his ears. As soon as he pulled the trigger he felt different, as if overcome by a shadow—both comforting and disturbing—and that shadow dug down deep into his soul and settled, settled so deeply, it was as if it had been there all along. The rage bubbling inside him subsided and his mind grew resolute and purposeful. He had finally understood things now. The world gave no favors. A man’s path was carved by his hand alone. Interference from the outside world brought only complications and pain. Matthew had blindly followed the path illuminated by "fate" his whole life, hoping to find humanity somewhere along the way; Mercury will not make the same mistake. “Yeah, I came back and looked for the doc’, but the little bastard was gone by the time I got back. I waited there for days, but the rat must’ve gotten wind of something being wrong. I’ve looked for the fuck my whole life to give him a little payback, but so far no luck. When I find him he’ll wish he’d had just stayed in the hospital that night because now I’m going to make him bleed. My life story ain’t all that special. Just don’t go through it blind like I did, if you do, I can’t guarantee I’ll spare your life if you’re in my way. Hell, I can’t even guarantee that if you don’t, but that’s the point. Anyways, you ever see the doc’ tell him Mercury’s gonna find him. He’s gonna find him and he’s gonna kill him.”
Name: Mercury Steele
Sex: Male
Race: Caucasian
Height: 6' 3"
Weight:160
Nature: Outsider
Demeanor: Loner
Concept: Rogue
Born of uncaring parents and neglected, Matthew Steele was thrust into hardship from the beginning. He endured the physical and emotional trauma he was subjected to by his drug-addicted parents, Rex and Care. When he was eight he witnessed his first rape. At ten he saw his father kill his mother with a machete over a couple of Rundown pills. That night he waited until Rex was passed out in his lean-to and stole his Mosin Nagant. It was a near ancient rifle from some great war long ago. He could barely hold it up with his scrawny arms, but his fingers, strong from the years of labor and hardship, met the trigger with no resistance. Young Matthew stalked off into the wasteland that night, following the path that fate laid before him.
When Matthew was 14 he nearly lost his life to a small gang of vagrants. The sun had set and he was looking for a place to hunker down for the evening. There was a barrel with some wood burning in it near what was left of a school’s playground. He surveyed the area and, against his better judgment, approached the fire. It’s licking flames leapt up into the air, challenging the dark ceiling of the starless sky. He lay down next to the fire and was asleep within a few moments. Shortly after he had dozed off several hoods appeared from behind the school and surrounded him, the dancing shadows cast by the fire skewed their faces, revealing deep, carnal grins. They beat him into unconsciousness and left him bleeding and broken in the street. The gang took the few supplies he’d had. He would have died that night if Dr. Targett hadn’t happened upon him while out scavenging for medical supplies. He brought him back to his abandoned hospital and, through a little trial and error and a lot of luck, helped him into a near full recovery. While all of his wounds had healed and his broken bones were mended there remained a problem. Dr. Targett accidentally injected him with a very high amount of Mercury (mistaking it for anesthetic). Though he immediately fell ill and remained that way for some time, Matthew’s body, accustomed to torture, had somehow built up an immunity to it within weeks. His eyes glazed over to a steely sheen and he began to grow comfortable in his perpetual chill. After weeks of rehabilitation he vowed to Dr. Targett, the only person who had showed compassion for him, that he would find something to pay him back with.
After weeks of reconnaissance on the gang’s hideout he was going to exact revenge. Matthew snuck into the compound without anybody making so much as a peep. He found the items they had stolen off him and he found his Mosin Nagant. He slowly loaded the five round magazine. Then he proceeded to shoot the closest hood in the head at point blank range. After the first shot rang out the others woke and scrambled, but Matthew’s body was healed and his mind clear. Each member of the gang was gunned down immediately. Soon there was only the leader left, trembling and hunched in a small puddle of piss.
“I-I-I don’t wanna die man. D-Don’t shoot me. I have some information man. Please, don’t shoot!”
“What is it? Speak up now you filthy fuck,” spat Matthew.
“That doc that was healin’ you up. He’s worse than us man, we’re just tryin’ to survive out here man. That guy, he’s a fucking monster! H-he paid us to ambush you that night. Said he needed a new practice dummy, said he’d give us all the Rundown we could take. A-an-and that’s all we had to do, beat you and leave,” stuttered the leader feebly.
Shuffling across the floor to a chest he opened it and proclaimed, “Here man, it’s all here. This whole fuckin’ chest man, said he makes it in the basement of his hospital. This is it all man, just take it, b-but please, man, don’t ki—”
The crack of Matthew’s rifle pierced the night air and brought a pleasant ringing to his ears. As soon as he pulled the trigger he felt different, as if overcome by a shadow—both comforting and disturbing—and that shadow dug down deep into his soul and settled, settled so deeply, it was as if it had been there all along. The rage bubbling inside him subsided and his mind grew resolute and purposeful. He had finally understood things now. The world gave no favors. A man’s path was carved by his hand alone. Interference from the outside world brought only complications and pain. Matthew had blindly followed the path illuminated by "fate" his whole life, hoping to find humanity somewhere along the way; Mercury will not make the same mistake.
“Yeah, I came back and looked for the doc’, but the little bastard was gone by the time I got back. I waited there for days, but the rat must’ve gotten wind of something being wrong. I’ve looked for the fuck my whole life to give him a little payback, but so far no luck. When I find him he’ll wish he’d had just stayed in the hospital that night because now I’m going to make him bleed. My life story ain’t all that special. Just don’t go through it blind like I did, if you do, I can’t guarantee I’ll spare your life if you’re in my way. Hell, I can’t even guarantee that if you don’t, but that’s the point. Anyways, you ever see the doc’ tell him Mercury’s gonna find him. He’s gonna find him and he’s gonna kill him.”
Pages Featuring Mercury Steel:
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ATTRIBUTES
ABILITIES
Athletics
Brawl
Dodge
Empathy
Expression
Intimidation
Leadership
Streetwise
Subterfuge
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Crafts
Etiquette
Firearms
Melee
Perfomance
Security
Scavenge
Stealth
Survival
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Barter
Computer/Electronics
Enigmas
Investigation
Law
Medicine
Politics
Religion
Science
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VIRTUES